


Dirty Secrets

by Redembe



Series: The Dirty Series [5]
Category: The Sentinel (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2020-04-24 02:32:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19164025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Redembe/pseuds/Redembe
Summary: The NSA makes its move and the consequences of Blair's actions are revealed.





	Dirty Secrets

**Author's Note:**

> This is the last installment of the Dirty series but I'm not through with this universe. There will be more...

      “I’m so sorry we couldn’t hold the funeral for you, Jim.”

      Looking up into the bleak, grey sky, Jim Ellison frowned.  He stood silently over his father’s grave, listening to his brother talk about the funeral and all of the people that had attended, some of whom he remembered from when they were kids.

      “I understand.  Honestly, I’m not sure I would have attended anyway.  It’s strange… him being gone,” Jim said. 

      “How’s Blair?”  Stephen asked.  “He’s still living at the loft, right?  Has he got his doctorate yet?”

      “He’s fine.  He’s over at the university today.”  _He’s trying to find a way to keep the NSA from using me as a lab rat, and he’s had his doctorate for years now, thanks for asking._   Today he was feeling the distance between them acutely.  For the past few years, he and Stevie had been mending fences, but all of the secrets he kept buried made for very tenuous ground on which to form any type of brotherly relationship. 

      “Thanks for meeting me,” Jim said, just to have something to say.

      “No problem.  Would you like to go somewhere for lunch?”

      “I’m not really hungry, Stevie.” 

      They lapsed into silence.  Jim felt a drop of rain land on his shoulder.  The cemetery was gray and silent around them. 

      “Jim, why do you think he did it?” 

      Clenching his jaw, feeling wholly unprepared for this conversation, Jim turned to his brother and studied him for a long few seconds.  “Maybe we should have that lunch after all.  There are some things I want… need to say.”  He was tired of secrets and lies.  His brother, at least, deserved to know the truth, or as much of it as he could tell anyway.

      “Sure, Jim, whatever you want,” Stevie said, reaching out to squeeze his arm.

      They chose a quiet restaurant down by the waterfront.  The lunch crowd was thin and the wait staff unobtrusive.  After they ordered, Jim felt his confidence wavering.  Could he really talk about this over breadsticks and lasagna?  After so many years, what did it matter?  It would only be hurting Stevie worse if he knew.  He decided to start with the easiest thing, the one thing he was happy to share.

      “So, what did you want to talk about?”  Stevie asked.

      “Blair and I… I wanted you to know… we’re together,” Jim said, steadying his younger brother’s face for a reaction.

      “Together?  As in sleeping together?”  Stevie asked, but his tone was just curious, not accusatory.

      “We’re lovers.  Partners.”  Jim clarified.  He didn’t want Stevie to get the idea that his relationship with Blair was some sort of fling or phase or midlife crisis or something.

      “Okay,” Stevie said, drawing the word out like he was giving himself time to formulate an acceptable response, “how long?  Have you always been gay?”

      “I’m bi, actually,” he said, “and yes, I’ve always been attracted to men.”

      Stevie took a few minutes to process this news while the waitress brought them their drinks and bread.  When she left again, Stevie said, “Are you happy?”

_Such a simple question for such a complicated answer_ , Jim thought.  Was he happy?  Only a few short weeks ago the answer would have been an emphatic yes with no qualifications.  He was happy that he and Blair were together.  He was happy that he had his Guide and that the other man would never leave him.  He was happy that neither of them had died at the hands of a sick pedophile.  But there were so many looming challenges ahead that there were days lately when ‘happiness’ seemed a foreign concept.

      “He makes me happy,” Jim finally said, deciding that that, at least, was the truth. 

      “That’s good, then.  I’m happy for you, Jim,” Stevie said, giving his brother a wide smile.

      Relieved that Stephen had taken that news so well, he wasn’t sure he’d have the guts to ruin their tentative accord with his other revelation. 

      “There’s something else,” he said, forcing himself to speak so he wouldn’t chicken out, “it’s about Dad and something that happened when I was a kid.”

      “Does it have something to do with why he killed himself?”  Stevie asked.

      “Maybe… probably…  Stevie, do you remember Uncle Mike?”

      Stevie’s brow furrowed for a moment.  “Yeah, I think, he wasn’t around much but I remember him coming around a lot when we were little.  He took us fishing a few times, didn’t he?  But then he sort of disappeared.  I figured that he and Dad had had some sort of fight.  I mean, that was Dad’s typical MO, right?  Disagreements leading to ostracism.”

      “Stevie, Uncle Mike... “ God, this was harder than he had thought it would be.  Jim suddenly wished they were anywhere but here, in this very public place.  But he couldn’t back out now, he knew if he didn’t do this now he wouldn’t have to strength to do it later.  “Uncle Mike molested me when I was a kid.”

      Stephen gasped.  “Jesus, Jim, really?!”

      “It started when I was about seven and ended when I was thirteen.  Dad walked in on it.  He beat the living shit out of his brother and threw him out, told him to never come back.” 

      “Oh god.  I had no idea!  He never… I never… he didn’t touch me,” Stephen said.  “I mean…”

      Jim shrugged.  “Who knows why he only targeted me.”

      “And you think Dad killed himself… why?  You think he felt guilty about not protecting you?”

      “I think that’s part of it.  Stevie, no charges were ever filed against Mike.  He was never held accountable for what he did.  Then we had this case come up… a child porn case.  We ended up busting him as part of a group of people who were exchanging pictures… videos… of little kids,” Jim explained.  “If he had… if he had only told someone…”

      “So you think he killed himself because he felt bad about not reporting what happened to you, about leaving Mike free to abuse other kids?”

      “Yeah, yeah, that’s what I think.”

      “Jesus,” Stevie said, taking a long drink of his iced tea.

      They sat in silence for a while and the waitress appeared with their food.  Neither man moved to eat.  The rain outside was coming steadily now and Jim watched the drops trace their way down the window next to their table.  He kept himself from zoning by absently listening to the kitchen staff argue about baseball stats.  He wondered what his brother was thinking.

      “I wonder why he didn’t leave a note,” Stephen finally said.  “Don’t people who commit suicide usually leave a note?”

      “Not always,” Jim said.  His arm ached in its sling and he wished Blair were here so he could smell him and listen to his heartbeat.

      “Jesus,” Stephen said again.

      The fingers of Jim’s right hand twitched against his thigh, restlessly.  He picked up his fork and ate a couple bites of food to avoid temptation.

      “I never knew,” Stephen said after a few tense minutes of silence.  “I had no idea he was doing that… to you.  If I had known…”

      “Don’t,” Jim said, “it’s not your fault, Stevie.  You were still little then.  Even if you had known what was going on you wouldn’t have known what to do about it.  It was Dad who should have known.  And there’s no one to blame for Michael’s behavior but Michael.  I’m just glad you didn’t have to suffer through it too.”

      “And he’s going to prison now?”  Stevie asked.  “Because of this case, he’s going to be put away?”

      “He’s being charged with attempted murder for shooting me, and possession and distribution of child pornography.”  Simon had wanted to add stalking, but Jim convinced him that he’d rather not have have his life exposed in that way.  His involvement in this case was already tricky.  As it was he would probably end up testifying about the events in the interrogation room.  That is unless Michael chose to make a deal.  Given the man’s seeming obsession, Jim feared that was unlikely.  Michael would want him on the stand.  He was making noises about defending himself in court.  Jim felt his stomach roll queasily at the thought.

      “Well, better late than never I guess,” Stevie said, “I hope the bastard rots.”

      “If he’s convicted, he’ll die in prison,” Jim said.  “He’s old and medically frail.  He’ll probably never see a parole hearing.”  The words held a kind of cold satisfaction.  At least there may be _some_ justice out of the whole thing.

      “Good,” Stevie said.

      Finally being able to share his childhood trauma with his brother felt good.  Maybe Blair had a point when he went on about how talking about something often helps.  When they parted ways, Stevie wrapped his arms around his older brother in a tight hug that Jim returned with equal strength.

      “Don’t be a stranger, okay,” Stevie said. 

      “Sure,” Jim answered, “maybe we can plan a camping trip sometime soon.” 

      “I think I’d like that,” Stevie said, and smiled a goodbye as he got into his car.

      Jim walked to the truck and watched his brother pull out into the street before he got in and started the engine.  For a minute he sat without moving.  He didn’t really want to go back to the empty loft and channel surf until Blair got home.  His week of leave was almost up, and he had deliberately not been checking in to see how the case was going.  Blair had convinced him that his brain needed rest as well as his body.  But he was itching to know if Rafe and Brown had collared Ingram, their suspected child pornographer.  And he was bored and restless.  He decided stopping in at the station for a couple of hours couldn’t hurt.

 

 

 

      He ran into Joel coming out of the elevator on the fifth floor.

      “Jim!”  The older man greeted him warmly, engulfing him in a strong, backslapping hug.  “How are you, man?  I’m surprised you haven’t been chomping at the bit to get back down here!”

      “I needed some time, Joel.”  He stepped away and gave Joel a smile. 

      “How do you feel?  Everything healing up okay?”

      “Better than okay, actually.  My doctors say I’m somewhat of a medical miracle.”  He shrugged self-consciously.  Even though the wound in his chest was still healing and he still had to keep his chest wall somewhat stable, his surgeon and his physical therapist seemed amazed at how rapidly his body was recuperating.  They hadn’t talked about it, but he was sure it had to do with the bond he shared with his Guide. 

      “That’s great, Jim.  So, when are you coming back to work?  Brown’s been bitching non-stop about having to do your paperwork.”

      “Doc says I can start desk duty next week.  I just thought I’d stop by and see how the case is going.”

      “Ah.  I’ll let Rafe fill you in.  He’s in the conference room sorting through triplicate forms.”

      “Thanks, Joel,” Jim said as the elevator dinged and opened behind him. 

      As Joel moved around him to get on, he gave Jim’s good shoulder a squeeze.

      Walking into the bullpen felt like coming home.  It always did after being away, and especially after being away due to an injury.  It was a reaffirmation of sorts.  A confirmation that he was still here, still alive, still able to do the job he loved.  For a moment, he just stood watching people work, listening to the indistinct chatter of phone conversations and the tapping of keyboards and enjoying the buzz of activity that never stopped.

      “Ellison!”  Simon’s bark drew his attention to his Captain’s office door, where the man himself was looming with a scowl on his face.  “Welcome back,” he said as Jim approached.

      “It’s good to be back, Sir.”  They gripped each other’s hands and Simon pulled him in for a brief one-handed hug and a slap on the back.

      “How are you feeling?”

      “Much better.  Doc says I can come back next week.”

      “Desk duty _only_ ,” Simon said with a glare.

      “Right, desk duty only,” Jim confirmed.

      “Good.  If I have to listen to Brown whine about your paperwork for much longer I’m gonna go crazy.”

      For a moment they just stood there looking out on the activity in the office, sharing a companionable silence.

      “If you’d like to check up on the case, Rafe’s in the conference room,” Simon said, knowing exactly why Jim was actually here.

      “Yeah, you know if they collared Ingram?”

      “I’ll let Rafe fill you in,” Simon said.  “Things have gone pretty smooth after your little drama with Uncle Mike.”

      Jim nodded and moved off towards the conference room.  He found Rafe hovering over the table and scowling down at a pile of papers.  There were file folders, boxes and bagged evidence covering the table from end to end.  Rafe turned when the door opened and Jim watched his handsome face break into a wide smile when their eyes met.

      “Jim!  Hey, man, come in!  How are you?”  The younger man came around the table to greet him and he was treated to another handshake-hug.

      “Doing better.  Thought I’d come by and check up on you.  Make sure you aren’t fucking up my case,” Jim said.

      “Well, the case is pretty much wrapped up, actually.  I was just packing up some stuff to send over to the Feds,” Rafe said, watching for his reaction to this news.

      “The Feds?  You find some interstate connections?”

      “We traced Ingram’s last known address to Colorado, actually.  Local cops confirmed he still resides at that residence.  And since the materials have crossed state lines…”  Rafe trailed off, shrugging.

      “That makes it FBI territory,” Jim finished.

      “Yeah.  But they’re on top of it, Jim.  They’re gonna get this guy.”

      Jim deflated some.  It was always hard to have to let go of a case like this before it was completely resolved, but Jim also knew the people on the FBI’s missing and exploited task force.  They were good people.  Good cops.  They’d get Ingram if it was at all possible.

      “How about the Hughs murder?  What’s the status on that?”  With all of the drama surrounding his uncle, the murder of Barrett Hughs had become somewhat of an afterthought for Jim.

      “Oh!  Good news on that, actually.  Forensics came back with a good print.  Ten point match to Michael Ellison.  Seems like old Uncle Mike’s been a busy boy lately,” Rafe said.  “So we’ll be adding murder one to his charges.”

      “But he’s not confessing to that,” Jim said, knowing his Uncle wouldn’t be stupid enough to directly confess to a murder.

      “Nah, but the evidence it tight.  He was at the scene.  With all of the other charges, it’s unlikely that he could mount a believable defense as to why his prints are in that house.” Rafe shrugged.

      “Have they done the arraignment yet?”

      “That was Wednesday.  Judge Hendric ordered remand and a one million dollar bond with conditions.”

      “Really?!  She’s gonna let that son-of-a-bitch bond out?!”

      Rafe shrugged again.  “He has no criminal record, not even a parking ticket.  She did the most she could do.”

      Jim sighed, frustrated.  It always seemed like the worst guys got the breaks.

      “He hasn’t bonded out yet, though,” Rafe added.

      “Wonder why.  It’s not like he doesn’t have the resources.”

      “Who knows,” Rafe answered.  “The guy’s a nutcase.” 

      Jim grunted in agreement. 

      “You sticking around today?”  Rafe asked.

      “Nah.  I’m not back to work until next week.  I’m taking some time to get my head together.”

      “That’s good, Jim,” Rafe said, expression turning serious. 

      “Well, I guess I’ll head out.  Looks like you’ve got everything pretty much covered.”  He turned towards the door.

      “Take care of yourself, Jim.” 

      Rafe’s farewell followed him out into the noisy bullpen.  He made his way back through the hallways of the PD, feeling a sense of relief that for now he didn’t have to worry about problems with a case. 

 

 

 

      The basement smelled like old gym socks and weed.  The sounds of muttered curses and Call of Duty drifted over from the other side of the room where several thousand dollars’ worth of computer and game system technology occupied one entire wall of the large space.

      Blair rubbed his temples and tried to focus on what Colby was doing on the screen in front of him.

      “Now, I can’t guarantee this will work, Blair,” the young man said, scratching the back of his head, mussing his already scruffy blond hair, “I’ve modified the code slightly and double checked for back doors but, I mean, the guys they have over there…”  He shrugged.  “They know all the tricks, man.”

      “Yeah, I know, you used to be one of them,” Blair said, sinking down into the comfortable office chair next to the young man at the computer.

      “Hey, I got out of that game!  I’m only twenty-three, man!  I’d like to do something with my life you know?  Sitting in some underground bunker writing code eight hours a day just wasn’t my thing, you know.”

      “Yeah, I know,” Blair said.  “So, how does this work again?”

      Colby gave him a look like he was particularly dense two-year-old.  “I’ve put the malware on this thumb drive,” he said, tapping the small drive still plugged into his mac, “it’s an entirely new code, not something that their internal security should be looking for.  You have to be logged into the system before you activate the program.  Once the program is activated, the drive has to stay plugged in for about three minutes for the .exe program to run.  Then it’s hands-free.  The program will run until it’s finished.  Piece of cake.”

      “So this will wipe all encrypted files in the system?”

      “Theoretically… this will take the entire network back to factory settings.”  Colby looked up at Blair.  “Blair, this is serious shit.”  He’d lowered his voice, glancing nervously at the other two young men still occupied by their game on the other side of the room.  “We’re talking black-hat here.  I’m not even supposed to _have_ this.  All of this code is proprietary.  I mean, I’ve changed it up some but the bare bones… it’s all government intellectual property.  I can’t promise it won’t be detected.”

      “Don’t worry, man, none of this will come back on you.”

      “That’s not what I’m worried about, Blair.  What’s going on with you, man?  We don’t talk for three years then all of a sudden you’re banging my door down wanting some sort of cyber weapon?  This isn’t on-the-books type stuff.”

      “No, it’s not,” Blair said. 

      When no other explanation was forthcoming, Colby rolled his eyes and turned back to his computer screen.  He’d learned long ago not to ask too many questions.  It wasn’t his business what Blair was going to do with this program.  As long as nothing could be traced back to him, he was happy to take the man’s money.  But part of him was concerned about a man that he had once called a friend.  They’d been close years ago, before Blair had disappeared on his assignment. 

      “Here ya’ go,” Colby said, pulling the thumb drive free of the computer and placing it in Blair’s outstretched hand.  “Just don’t leave it laying around.  And make sure you destroy it when you’re done.”

      “No problem, Colby,” Blair said, gripping the small piece of tech tightly, feeling the sharp points of its corners digging into the flesh of his palm.  “Thanks.”

      Colby shrugged his no-big-deal shrug and turned back to his computer.  “Lock the door on the way out.”

      Back in his car, Blair felt a cold sweat start between his shoulder blades.  Was he really thinking about doing this?  If he was caught… it would mean the end… 

      “Suck it up, buttercup,” he muttered to himself.  “You made this fucking bed, now you’re gonna have to lay in it.”

      He started the car and headed for home, the small thumb drive burning a hole in his pocket.  He had a feeling Jim wasn’t going to like this plan, but in the last week of strained conversation and even more strained silences, they hadn’t been able to come up with anything better.  And he missed sleeping in Jim’s big bed, curled up next to his Sentinel.  He hadn’t had the guts to ask if he could return and Jim hadn’t invited him back.  Hadn’t touched him intimately since their… whatever it had been… in the kitchen and that abbreviated embrace right after Jim woke up in the hospital.  It had been weeks and Blair was hungry for his lover’s touch.  But he wouldn’t… couldn’t make the first move.  He knew Jim was still hurting over what he’d done and even though the older man had said they would be even after their cathartic joining that morning, he hadn’t made a move to put them back on the path to normal. 

      Automatically, he reached inside himself for the link that hummed constantly between them, searching for his partner’s comforting presence.  Most of the time these days Jim felt tired and a bit sad with an undercurrent of the love that was like a lifeline between them.  When Blair sensed contentment and happiness through the link he brightened.  Whatever it was that had Jim in such a good mood he hoped it would carry over into their time together.  Perhaps the conversation about his plan could wait a few hours. 

 

 

 

      He was greeted by the smell of pizza baking in the oven.

      “Oh my god, that smells good, I’m starving!”  Blair said, dropping his bag by the coat hooks and making a b-line into the kitchen where Jim was sitting at the table reading the paper.

      “I decided to go with comfort food for dinner.  Got all the fixings for homemade garbage pizza,” Jim said.

      Blair turned and gave him a smile.

      “Speaking of smells… why do you smell like old weed, Sandburg?”  Jim asked, sitting back and crossing his arms, but Blair could see a spark of humor in the other man’s gaze which eased his immediate spike of anxiety.

      “Went to see an old friend today.  I think he smokes in his basement,” he said.  “Want me to shower?”

      Jim shrugged as if he didn’t care either way.  A pang of hurt stabbed his gut.  Jim had been putting on that front ever since they got home from the hospital.  Like he didn’t care much what Blair did.  Like he wasn’t going to get close enough to touch him, smell him, taste him.  Blair turned his back before the emotion could reach his eyes.  He heard Jim sigh behind him.

      “You know I can feel you.  Why bother hiding?”  He asked.

      Blair turned around again and let Jim see. 

      “I thought you said we were even now.  I thought we were gonna go forward, that you’d… forgiven me.”  He forced the words out through a tight throat, fearing a denial.

      “I have,” Jim said matter-of-factly.

      “Then why are you still _punishing_ me?!”  Blair shouted, suddenly angry.  “Why are you still pushing me away?”

      “I’m not pushing you away,” Jim said, and Blair could read genuine confusion through the link.

      “Yes you _are_ ,” he said, frustration making him move, making his body sing with frenetic energy.  “You don’t touch me like you used to.  We barely talk and when we do it’s only about how we’re gonna deal with all this _shit_ I caused.  We haven’t slept together since before you were hurt.  I don’t know what else to do, Jim!  I’m trying here, man!  I gave you everything… I went… I _begged_ … I let you…”  And he was crying… _again_. 

      He felt Jim’s strong arms come around him from behind, stilling his frantic movements.

      “Breathe, Blair,” Jim whispered softly in his ear, “breathe with me.  That’s it.”

      Blair concentrated on his breathing, trying to bring himself back from the brink of a panic attack.  God, he hadn’t had one in _years_.  When he felt calmer.  When they were breathing together and Jim was swaying them back and forth gently, Jim said, “You never asked.”

      “Huh?”  Blair mumbled, trying to turn around in his Sentinel’s embrace but Jim just tightened his hold.

      “You never _asked_ to sleep with me again,” Jim said and dropped a gentle kiss on his neck, below his ear.  Blair shivered.

      “I was waiting for _you_ to ask,” he said, feeling foolish. 

      “I thought you needed… wanted space… I thought you were punishing yourself,” Jim said.  “And I was still hurt just enough to let you.”

      It was a painful admission.  He’d forgiven Blair, yes, but it didn’t mean that the hurt had gone away.  But he was tired of waiting.  He wanted Blair back where he belonged.  The loud beeping of the oven timer made both men jump.  They separated, Jim going to take the pizza out and Blair to sit at the table.  They ate garbage pizza and drank beer together and Blair was relieved that the silence between them held nothing but calm.  When their bellies were full and their plates were empty and they’d both had enough beer to be pleasantly buzzed, Jim stood and held out his hand.

      “Come upstairs, Blair,” he said.

      Blair smiled and let Jim lead him.

      Blair undressed him gently, being careful not to jostle his arm too much as he took the sling off and then replaced it once Jim’s shirt was gone.  “I’m afraid I’m not up to anything really athletic yet, Chief,” Jim said, brushing his knuckles down the side of Blair’s face.  Blair found himself leaning into the touch.

      “Will you suck me?”  Blair asked, as he worked Jim out of his pants and underwear.

      “Yeah, yeah, I’d like that,” Jim said, moving close to kiss Blair open-mouthed and nasty while the younger man fumbled at his shirt buttons.

      Jim’s mouth on him felt like the first time.  He found himself sitting on the edge of the bed, Jim kneeling in front of him, working his cock in and out of his mouth using his good hand to add stimulation on the upstroke.  He leaned back on his hands and let every dirty, filthy thing he could think of spill out of his mouth while he felt his climax coming way too quickly.  Jim felt it too and abruptly he switched tactics, taking his mouth off Blair’s prick and moving down to lick his balls, taking them in his mouth, using his hand to rub behind.

      Blair sat up and looked down at his lover.  Jim’s eyes were closed and he was stroking himself now with his good hand, breathing heavily around his lover’s testicles.  While he watched, Jim’s eyes opened and he looked up at his lover, groaning loudly and stroking faster. 

      “Lay down,” Jim said, taking his mouth away and standing, still stroking himself.  Blair groaned and collapsed back on the bed, watching Jim move to stand between his wide-flung thighs.  “Watch me.”

      Blair watched, reaching to touch himself, while Jim jerked off in front of him.  “No,” Jim said, stilling the motion of his hand toward his cock.  “Just watch.  This,” Jim said, gripping Blair’s penis in his fist, “is mine.”

      “Oh my god,” Blair said, dropping his hand back to the bed.

      Jim continued to stroke himself, eyes hot with lust, as he just looked his fill of his Guide.  He’d missed this.  The physical connection between them fed the spiritual one.  He could feel the feelings between them intensify every time they were physically close.  It fed something deep inside him.  He heard himself grunting and felt his orgasm drawn up out of him like a wave cresting then he watched his semen splatter over Blair’s groin and stomach, warm, sticky drops claiming what was his.  Blair groaned loudly and made another aborted grab for his dick.  But Jim got there before him, stroking him firmly with his hand, smoothing Jim’s cum into his skin as he pulled Blair’s climax from him in a series of fast, hard strokes that left him utterly drained.

      Jim sank down on the bed beside his lover, both of them laying sideways with their legs hanging off.  Blair groped for Jim’s hand but frowned when he realized he was on the wrong side.  So he turned over and wrapped his arm carefully around Jim’s chest instead. 

      Jim reached over and grabbed some tissues off the nightstand.  He moped up what he could reach and figured the comforter would take care of the rest.  For a while, they lay facing each other.  Blair watched Jim’s chest rise and fall in rhythm with his own and didn’t feel tired at all.  The link was humming with love and contentment tinged with a low-level anxiety that was becoming the norm these days.  The sun had set while they were making love and Blair could no longer make out the details of his lover’s face.

      “I’m scared,” Blair whispered in the dark, arm tightening around his Sentinel’s chest.

      “Me too,” Jim answered.

      Blair sighed and pulled away.  He could feel Jim watching him in the dark as he found his discarded pants and checked the pockets.  Jim got up and pulled the comforter down so they could get in bed properly.  When they were back in bed, facing each other under the covers, Blair reached over with his hand and Jim clasped it, gripping it hard, feeling the sharp corners of the thumb drive held between them.

      “What’s that?”  Jim asked. 

      Blair wished he could see Jim’s expression.  “It’s a thumb drive.”

      Jim hmm’ed in response and waited.

      “I got it from a guy I used to know at work.  It… it has a program on it.”

      “I assume this program is part of a plan you’ve cooked up?”

      Blair nodded, suddenly nervous.  He knew Jim wasn’t going to like this.

      “It’s a malware program.  It’s designed to infiltrate the NSA’s secure intranet.  It should wipe the entire system, taking any Sentinel intel with it.”

      “Let me guess, you can only use it from inside,” Jim said. 

      Blair could hear the frown in his voice and feel his increased anxiety through their link.

      “And you want to do this alone, don’t you?”  Jim asked.

      “I got us into this mess,” Blair said defensively.

      “No way,” Jim said, implacable.

      Blair sat up, moving restlessly.  He was ready to argue his point.  He had to make Jim understand that this was _his_ responsibility.  _His_ mess to clean up.

      “Did you suddenly forget that I spent the majority of my life in Covert Operations?”  Jim interrupted him before he could get started.  “It’s not like I don’t know how to conduct an operation like this.  You might need backup.  Hell, at the very least I’ll want to be there to know what’s going down!  It’ll drive me crazy sending you off alone into enemy territory.  No.  No way.  We do this together or we find another way.”

      “Jim, there’s no way we can break into NSA headquarters without being seen or discovered.  _I_ have security clearance.  _I_ can walk in the front goddamn _door_!  There’s no way to explain _you_.  You’re supposed to be blissfully ignorant about all of this.  Stealth is our only advantage at this point!”

      “So I can wait outside.  Listen from a lookout point.  We can get some earpieces from the PD so I can talk to you and hear what’s going on.  But you’re not going alone, Blair.  If you try I’ll just follow you.”

      “What if I handcuff you to the bed?”

      Jim chuckled.  “I’d like to see you try.”

      Blair slumped back down onto the mattress.  He knew he was beat.  And Jim was probably right anyway. 

      “When?”  Jim asked.

      “I have to wait until I’m called in.  It would look suspicious if I just manufactured some reason to appear at the office.  As far as they know I’m on assignment.  Indefinitely.  But I have a feeling it won’t be long now.  My boss at the NSA came to visit me while you were in the hospital.”

      Jim stiffened beside him and a wave of hurt anger stabbed through their link.  “And you’re just telling me this _now_?”

      “We’ve been busy and frankly there’s not much we can do about it.  He was just here to check up on me.  They were concerned that I wasn’t able to pull you out of whatever weird zone you were in.  I wasn’t deliberately keeping it from you, honestly.  And we haven’t really been talking that much.”

      Jim grunted and Blair felt the link settle again.  “Do you think he was suspicious?”

      “I don’t know.  Maybe.  It’s hard to tell with these guys.  They act suspicious of everything.”

      “So now we just wait.”  Jim’s tone indicated his level of comfort with this idea.

      “Not much else we _can_ do,” Blair said, punctuating the comment with a huge yawn.

      Jim reached out and pulled him close, tucking his mate’s head into his shoulder.  He felt Blair’s body grow heavy with sleep and spent long minutes stroking his lover’s soft skin, feeling him alive and strong beside him.  There was nothing he wouldn’t do to keep this.  He’d known it when they had first forged this new bond between them, but laying here in the dark and contemplating a future in which Blair might be forcibly taken from him cemented the fact that he could never let that happen.  He needed to heal.  He needed to be ready.  The enemy was near and his current physical limitations had him on edge.  Time.  They just needed a little more time.  As sleep finally took him, he could hear the clock ticking down in his head.

 

 

 

      The following Monday, Jim went back to work and Blair went back to the U and life presumably went back to normal.  Or at least what passed for normal in the Sandburg zone, Jim reflected, as he met with Rafe and Brown to go over the case they had helped build for the feds.

      “So Agent Morrow wants to get your testimony in person, Jim.  She’s read through all of the transcripts and your Uncle’s written statement but I guess she wants it from the horse’s mouth,” Brown said as they hunched over files and boxes in the conference room.

      “Well we can schedule that any time this week,” Jim said.  “I’m stuck here until my surgeon clears me for full duty.”

      “How long, do you think?”  Rafe asked, knowing how frustrating it was to be stuck in the office all day.

      “Probably another two weeks,” Jim grimaced.  Already he was feeling much better.  The dull ache in his chest and shoulder didn’t bother him much at all and he was gaining range of motion every time he went to a PT session.  His therapist said that he could probably dispense with the sling tomorrow so he was looking forward to being able to dress himself and shower without help.  Not that that hadn’t resulted in some very pleasant sessions with his lover.  But dependence always grated on him.

      “That’s great, Jim!  How’s the PT going?  I know how much you love those Physical Torture sessions,” Brown said, chuckling at their not-so-affectionate reference to physical therapy.

      “Good, good.  I get to say goodbye to this thing tomorrow,” Jim said, indicating the sling still trapping his left arm.

      Brown nodded and smiled.  They went back to discussing the case.  Jim was honestly glad the feds were taking this one off their hands.  One less thing for him to stress over right now.  They were still hoping Michael might take the DA’s offer of a deal, instead of go to trial, but the negotiations were ongoing.  Until that decision was made, Jim was hesitant to put it completely out of his mind.  Testifying in front of his Uncle was not something he wanted to face.

      “Well, I think that’s about it, Jim,” Rafe said, surveying the stack of labeled file boxes organized neatly along the wall.  “Agent Morrow is coming this afternoon to supervise the transfer of this stuff so I guess you can get with her about your statement then.”

      “Sure, no problem,” Jim said.

      The door to the conference room opened and Simon stuck his head in.  “Jim, welcome back!  Just thought I’d come by to see how things are coming along.”

      “We’re all set here, Cap,” Rafe answered.  “Morrow’s coming tomorrow to collect this stuff and then she’ll just need Jim’s statement and then it’s all over but the shoutin’.”

      “Sounds good, gentlemen.  Jim, when you’re done here, I have some things you can work on while you’re chained to your desk.”

      “Sure, Captain,” Jim said.

      “You’re enthusiasm is underwhelming, Detective,” Simon growled, giving Jim a pointed look.

      Jim shrugged eloquently.  They all knew how much he hated busy work. 

      Jim’s first week back to work brought no new catastrophes, but he was still on high alert.  With him tethered to the office, Blair was a bit freer to spend more time at the U.  To all intents and purposes, they went on with life as usual.  Jim worked, Blair visited the station a few times, and at the end of the week he sent another status report to Brasel.  No more was spoken of their plan.  Blair checked his email daily, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

      That first week came and went, followed by another, then another.  After two weeks of desk duty he’d been cleared for full active duty.  The day after that he’d called to let Blair know he’d be working out after his shift that day.  He was three hours later than usual getting home, coming in tired and sore, soaked with sweat.

      “Jesus, Jim,” Blair said, alarmed as he watched Jim struggle to remove his sweaty clothing.  “Don’t you think you ought to take it a bit easy the first day out?”

      “Can’t,” Jim said, and it was apparent that he was so wiped out that even talking proved an effort.

      “What do you mean, ‘can’t’?”  Blair asked, as he moved to help his lover, dragging the soaked shirt over Jim’s head and helping to shove his shorts down his legs and off. 

      “I have to get my strength back.  I didn’t realize how out of shape I am,” Jim said, collapsing on the lid of the toilet as if he just couldn’t stand one moment longer.

      Blair’s mouth gaped and he pointedly gave Jim an up and down look, eyes examining the perfect abs, sculpted chest and bulging shoulder and arm muscles.

      Jim chuckled.  “You’re biased and I’ve been lazy for the past few years.”

      “Jim, if this is lazy, you’re gonna give me a complex, man.  Tell me, what’s this really about?  Killing yourself at the gym isn’t gonna help you stay in shape, man.”

      Jim looked away, jaw jumping.  “I feel like I did when I was back in CovOps.  I feel like any minute a team of guys are gonna bust down the door with flash bangs and automatic weapons and drag us off to… somewhere.  It’s got me on edge, okay.  I feel like I have to protect you.”

      “Aw, Jim,” Blair sighed and put his hands on his Sentinel’s sweaty shoulders, rubbing and massaging the tight muscles.  “I highly doubt that’s going to happen.  I mean, if they had wanted to grab us, wouldn’t they have done it while you were still incapacitated?”

      Jim grunted an acknowledgement of that logic. 

      “Besides, I _do_ have training of my own, you know,” Blair chided softly.  They didn’t often talk about Blair’s _other_ job.  Hadn’t really spoken of it in any detail since his horrible confession what seemed like a lifetime ago.  Jim hadn’t wanted to think about the details.  He supposed the NSA wouldn’t have just sent Blair out in the field without at least some basic self-defense and weapons training.

      “Still, I don’t like it.  I’m all keyed up.  It’s like I’m on battle alert twenty-four-seven.  I haven’t been sleeping well either,” he confessed.

      “How long?”  Blair asked.

      “Since you told me about the thumb drive and this insane plan you have,” he said, thinking about the small piece of technology which was currently stored safely away in Blair’s secret lock box.

      “I wish you had said something.  Here, let’s get you cleaned up and then I’ll give you a massage.  Then we’ll see if I can’t wear you out enough to sleep,” he said, reaching over to turn on the shower.

      “Oh yeah,” Jim said, suddenly feeling a lot less tired.  “And how do you plan to do that, Chief?”

      “You’ll see,” Blair answered, stripping of his shirt under the hot gaze of his Sentinel.

     

 

 

      There were no visions, no premonitions, no spiritual Sentinel weirdness to warn them.  Blair’s eyes popped open wide when the bedside lamp snapped on.  His body jumped reflexively against Jim’s restraining arm, flung over his side sometime in the night.  It took his brain a moment to kick in.  His eyes half a second to adjust.  Then the form of Justin Brasel resolved itself beside their bed, a gun held loosely in front of him, not pointed at them.  For the moment.

      “Dr. Sandburg,” Justin said, “so sorry to wake you in the middle of the night.  You’ll be coming with me now.”

      Blair’s body stiffened, adrenaline pumping through his system.  “Jim,” he whispered through a throat tight with fear, shaking his partner’s arm.

      “He’s sedated,” Justin said, waving the gun casually.  At Blair’s look of alarm he continued, “He won’t be harmed.  He’ll wake up in the morning with a bit of a headache.  You’ll be happy to know you’re research has been very helpful in discovering how a Sentinel’s system reacts to certain drugs.”

      “What the fuck do you want?  I’m not going with you,” Blair was whispering still but he wasn’t sure why.  He shoved Jim’s limp arm off and sat up, wanting to be at less of a disadvantage.

      “I also took the liberty of inserting a GPS chip while he was out,” the NSA agent continued as if Blair hadn’t spoken or moved.  “Can’t have him going missing while you’re away, can we?”

      “How…”  His mind was racing, a million questions at once skittering around in his brain.  He tried to stand but couldn’t make his body work right.

      “How did I get in?  How did I sneak up here without being heard?  How did I inject your partner with a powerful sedative while he was sleeping?  Oh Blair, you have no idea what I can do.  But it’s all thanks to you, don’t you see?  You’re the key to the entire program!  And now it’s time for you to finish what you started.  Get up, Dr. Sandburg and get dressed.  We’re leaving.”  With that, he pointed the gun at Jim’s head, close enough, Blair calculated, that he wouldn’t be able to get his body between the muzzle and his Sentinel. 

      “Don’t bother trying anything,” Justin must have read his mind.  “I’m a much better shot than you ever were at hand-to-hand combat.  Now get up.”

      Justin’s cold command got Blair moving but only enough to get him on his feet.  “You won’t shoot him.  You’re bluffing.  You can’t kill the only known Sentinel in existence.”  Blair hissed the words, fists clenched, praying for an opening that would let him jump this bastard.

      The laugh that exploded out of Brasel was loud, echoing off the walls of the loft bedroom.  The explosion of the gun going off ripped a scream from Blair’s throat.  His eyes went wide and he turned, crawling onto the bed over to his partner, running his hands frantically up and down Jim’s body, looking for blood… where was the blood… where had he been shot?  It took several seconds before he realized there was a small hole in the sheet next to Jim’s arm, the fabric torn almost as clean as if it had been cut with a knife, the bullet unseen, buried somewhere in the box spring or perhaps the floor under the bed.  It was amazing how little damage there was on the outside, Blair thought to himself.

      “Get up,” Justin ordered again, “or the next one goes in his head.”

      Blair got up.  Justin held the gun on Jim while Blair dressed in the first clothes he could pull from the closet, a pair of jeans and one of Jim’s t-shirts.  Thinking fast, he left his feet bare, thanking all the gods for once for Jim’s anal retentive tendencies that had him tidying away their shoes at the back of the dark closet.

      “My shoes are downstairs, in the office,” he said, hoping he sounded normal and not like he was plotting something.

      Justin looked around the room, as if attempting to verify the veracity of this statement.  Upon seeing no shoes in evidence he grunted and stood aside, waiting for Blair to go downstairs first.

      “Make it quick,” Justin said, and he followed Blair to the doorway, watching as the younger man turned on the light and moved to the small walk-in closet.  He quickly located an old pair of sneakers and pulled them on, not bothering with the laces.  The lock box came open silently and he lifted the envelope on top, hoping he could pocket the thumb drive before Justin got suspicious and came into the room.

      “Looking for this?”  The voice made him freeze.  It was like a scene from a movie.  Despair swept through him in a tidal wave of weakness and he sat back on his butt with a low groan, turning slowly to see Justin standing in the closet doorway with a grin on his face that looked more like a snarl.  In his hand, he held a thumb drive. 

      “No,” Blair said, trying to deny what he was seeing, trying to make this entire nightmare scene vanish.  “You can’t… How…”  He turned back to the box, thinking maybe it was a trick, a fake, a ruse to make him believe…  But the drive wasn’t there.  And the only people who knew the code had been himself and Jim.  The only people…

      “You should have listened to your boyfriend,” Justin said.  And while Blair was still gazing desolately into his own personal Pandora’s Box, Justin removed a syringe from his coat pocket and injected the Guide with the same fast-acting sedative he’d used on the Sentinel.  “He had it right all along.”  Justin holstered his weapon and removed his cell phone from his pocket.  He tapped the screen a couple of times and spoke, “I’m going to need some help getting him downstairs.”  Hanging up, he left Blair’s unconscious body slumped in the closet and took the thumb drive into the bathroom.  Once there, he put the small drive on the floor and crushed in beneath the heel of his shoe then he picked up the pieces and flushed them down the toilet using a Kleenex on the handle.  The Kleenex he stuffed in his pocket.

      While he waited for the arrival of his extraction team, he double checked that he hadn’t touched anything or left any scuff marks on the floors.  Satisfied that no visible evidence of his presence could be found, he let his team in and watched as the two men carried Dr. Sandburg out into the night to their waiting van.  Then he went upstairs, turned off the bedside lamp, took a small aerosol can from his pocket and sprayed the advanced odor neutralizer through the air, down the stairs and inside the large living area.  Backing carefully out of the door, he used Blair’s keys to lock up.

      “I’ll meet you at the airport,” he told the driver of the van who nodded and drove off into the night with his cargo.

      Justin found Blair’s car, got in and started the engine.  As he drove through the night towards the airport he thought about seeing the expression on Dr. Sandburg’s face when he realized just what they had created together.  They were about to change the world.

 

 

 

      It was Saturday so there was no alarm to wake him, but Jim could tell that he’d slept much longer than usual.  And he had a splitting headache. 

      “Fuck,” he groaned, rolling over in bad, his entire body throbbing to the beat of the pain in his head.  “Jesus.”

      Carefully, he sat up in bed, keeping his eyes closed against the unusually bright morning sunshine streaming through the skylight and made his way down the stairs using only touch, keeping one hand on the rail and going slow so he didn’t fall.  Once in the bathroom, he left the light off and found the aspirin in the medicine cabinet, using handfuls of water from the sink to wash down the dry pills.  Head still pounding, he went out and sat down carefully on the couch.  In a minute he’d go up and wake Blair, see if he could get his lover to rub his head. 

      Blair.  Blair hadn’t been in the bed when he woke up.  Trying to think past the pain, Jim tried to remember when Blair had gotten out of bed this morning.  Tried to remember if his partner had woken him or told him where he was going.  Nothing came.  He must have been really out of it not to wake when Blair left.  He stood up and looked around as if Blair might appear from a hiding place somewhere, but his senses, even through the headache haze, were telling him that Blair wasn’t in the loft.  Had left hours ago.  It was unusual for his lover to leave without at least waking him and telling him where he was going (especially these days) but he guessed it wasn’t outside the realm of possibility. 

      His keys were gone, Jim noted.  Then he walked over to the balcony doors, going outside and feeling the shock of cold air.  The fresh morning air filled with city smells washed away some of the pain and he looked down onto the street to see that Blair’s car was missing from its usual spot. 

      “Guess he went to the U,” Jim said out loud, rubbing his head and sighing. 

      Back inside, Jim made coffee and then went into the office to boot up his PC.  Even though he was off today he was still waiting on news from the DA about a date for Michael’s trial.  He’d refused the deal, of course.  The upcoming trial was a new source of anxiety they didn’t need right now, but he was trying not to let it become too much of a distraction.  His headache was finally easing.  He sipped his coffee while he waited for his work email to update.  There were the usual interdepartmental emails about new trainings, an email from Simon asking about poker night and several pieces of junk mail which he deleted without opening.  The newest email had an unfamiliar .gov address.  He thought he knew all the Agents assigned to the missing and exploited task force but maybe they had brought on a new hire.  The name on the email was Justin Brasel.  The email subject read ‘URGENT!’.

                  Detective Ellison,

                   I want you to know your Guide is safe.  He will remain unharmed and be returned to you that way as long as you follow my specific instructions. 

                   You are being watched.  Your entire home is monitored both by video and audio surveillance.  Don’t bother trying to locate the devices, they are quite                     invisible even to you.  We are monitoring your land-line phone and your cell phone.  You are equipped with a GPS tracker which has been implanted                         somewhere in your body.  In short, don’t do anything stupid.

                    If we are alerted to any sign that you are attempting to allude detection or have alerted authorities then you will never see your Guide again.  Go to                          work.  Go to the gym.  Do all of the normal things that you usually do and no harm will come to Dr. Sandburg.  What is happening is far too important                      to a lot of very powerful people to risk exposure, and frankly, at the end of the day, both of you are expendable. 

                    Thank you so much for your contribution to our work, Detective Ellison.  Maybe someday we will meet. 

                    Regards,

                    Special Agent in Charge Justin Brasel, NSA

            Jim read the email with a growing sense of horror.  They had come in the night.  They had come in the night and taken Blair.  His Guide.  And he had done nothing.  Hadn’t heard, smelled, felt one single goddamn thing!  A shout of impotent rage rose from him and before he could stop himself he picked up his coffee mug and hurled it against the wall, coffee and pieces of ceramic flew everywhere, several drops landing on his computer monitor where the email still sat open, mocking him with its arrogant, callous tone.

            He stood panting for several minutes.  His first thought was to verify, if he could, whether or not Brasel was lying about the loft being bugged.  He spent the next three hours combing the place meticulously, but could not locate any devices.  Either Brasel was lying or he was telling the truth.  It was impossible to tell given the evidence.  And the thought that he might at this very moment have electronic eyes tracking his every move made his skin crawl.  He gave a passing thought to calling Simon, spilling the entire horrible story and asking for help.  They had forensic techs who could sweep the loft with electronic sensors.  Maybe they could find something he couldn’t.  But the words in the email haunted him.  If they were watching and he alerted anyone… what would they do to Blair? 

“Shit.  Focus.  You have to think,” he said to himself, forcing his body to sit on the sofa, forcing himself to get his breathing under control.  A hysterical thought drifted through his brain about how there was a reason why spouses were never assigned to the same unit.  Emotional attachment can cloud one’s judgement.  He’d never given it much thought until now. 

Now was not the time to lose it.  If he was going to beat these guys he had to stay focused.  He had to assume Blair was safe and would stay that way for now, as long as he didn’t do anything to alert the NSA.  They wouldn’t have bothered with all the cloak and dagger bullshit if they just meant to kill him.  So for now he had to think. 

            He went back into the office and his eyes drifted from the screen to the closed closet door.  They still had one advantage, the thumb drive containing the malware Blair had planned to use.  Blair had made him memorize the code to the lockbox in preparation for just this kind of eventuality.  His fingers remembered the order of the buttons easily and he opened the box and began shifting through the contents.  After a few seconds, his hands moved faster, then he began scooping out items and tossing them on the floor, going through every single piece of paper, opening every single envelope, examining each one as if the drive might be hidden amongst them.  When he was finally staring at the bottom of the empty box, he had to acknowledge that the drive was gone.  Probably taken along with Blair.  He prayed that Blair had it, had somehow managed to secret it away, unbeknownst to his captors.  He couldn’t let himself worry about that now.  Finding a way to rescue Blair was his only priority. 

            Turning back to the computer, he hit reply on the email.  He typed only two words before hitting send.

 

 

 

            Justin was tired from his long night of travel but real sleep wouldn’t be on the menu for several more hours.  They would touch down in West Virginia in thirty minutes and it would be a long helicopter ride to the black site.  Dr. Sandburg slept on, laid across three plush seats on the private government jet.  His hands were bound by zip tie cuffs just in case, but Justin was sure he had not missed the dosage.  He and his team had been planning this for weeks now.  And his plans _never_ failed.  One didn’t get this high up in the food chain by being sloppy.

            He turned to his laptop and was surprised to see a reply from Detective Ellison.  He chuckled softly as he opened it.  “Fuck me, indeed,” he murmured as he read the crude message.  “I do so hope I get to meet you some day, Detective Ellison.  The original Sentinel.”  Closing the laptop, he sat back and dozed lightly.  It would be the only rest he would get for a while and he planned to take advantage of it.

      The plane touched down in the early hours of dawn on Saturday morning.  The weather in West Virginia was misty and cool.  The small, private air strip was quiet and the only other person around was the pilot of the helicopter they would be taking to the site.  Justin deplaned with his small carryon and his men followed him, carrying the limp body of Jim’s Guide between them.  They buckled Blair into one of the passenger seats, his bound hands behind him, and put a set of head phones with a mic on his head.  Justin sat in the other seat and donned an identical set of headphones.  Dr. Sandburg would be waking shortly and he wanted to be able to talk to the other man before they arrived.

      “Let’s go,” he told the pilot and they were soon in the air.  He watched out the window as mile after mile of untouched Virginia wilderness flew by beneath them.  There was no one for miles around.  The site was located in the middle of thousands of acres of protected forest.  The loud whirring of the copter’s blades passed unnoticed into the sunrise.

     

 

 

      Blair groaned, struggling to wake.  His head was pounding and he couldn’t quite get his thoughts to sort themselves into something that made sense.  When he finally managed to open eyelids that felt glued shut, he was confused and disoriented.  The last thing he remembered was falling asleep in his bed at home, next to Jim.

      “Jim?”  He said, feeling like he’d missed something. 

      “Ah, you’re awake.”

      He turned his head, or tried to, and felt it flop over onto his shoulder.  The smiling face of Justin Brasel resolved itself next to him.  And then his brain reported in that he was most definitely no longer in his bed.  He was strapped to a chair, his hands were restrained and apparently he was in a helicopter.  The haze was starting to clear from his mind now. 

      “Whe…” his throat was dry and he coughed, trying to swallow and finally managed to ask, “Where are we?  Where are you taking me?”

      “We’re somewhere over the Allegheny Mountains in West Virginia.  I’m taking you to one of our black sites.  This is where we’ve been assimilating all of the research you’ve been providing for us.  We’ve built a very impressive team here.”

      “The NSA has black sites now?”  Blair asked.

      “It’s amazing the resources someone will give you when you start talking about terrorism.”

      Blair closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the seat.  He still felt groggy.  Justin had probably injected him with the same sedative he’d given Jim.

      “What time is it?”  Blair asked.

      “It’s about seven thirty local time.  You’re wondering if your Sentinel is awake yet, aren’t you?”

      “Jim’s gonna kill you, you know,” Blair said, eyes still closed, head still pounding. 

      Justin chuckled but decided not to dignify that with a response.  They made the rest of the trip in silence. 

      When the copter landed, Blair was feeling much more awake, but his head was still killing him.  As the helicopter blades came to a halt, he looked out his window to see what he could see.  Not a whole lot, as it turned out.  There was the helipad, which appeared to be in the middle of a heavily forested area and a small building.  He could tell that they were up in the mountains somewhere.  A man stood at the edge of the helipad with an AR slung across his body.  He watched Justin exit the copter and walk over to speak with him.  They both returned, opening the door next to his seat.

      “Dr. Sandburg, this is Sergeant McCabe, he’s going to make sure you don’t do anything stupid like try to run off into the forest,” Just said as he removed the straps from around Blair’s shoulders and placed his headset on its hook inside the door.  “You wouldn’t get very far anyway.  You’d die before you reached anyone who could help you.”

      Sergeant McCabe said nothing, just stood stoically while Justin helped him down from the copter, his hands still tied behind him.

      “If I promise not to try and escape can you release my hands and let me have some aspirin?  My head is fucking killing me,” Blair said, realizing that attempting any sort of escape was probably pointless.

      “When we’re inside,” Justin said.  He kept his hand wrapped around Blair’s right bicep as Sergeant McCabe walked behind them towards the small building.

      When they stepped inside, Blair saw an elevator directly in front of them.  There was nothing else in the small room.  Justin placed his hand on a small screen beside the elevator and the door opened.  They got on and Justin used his hand again in order to press the button for the first floor.  The ride was short and the doors opened onto what looked surprisingly like a completely normal office lobby.  There was a pair of glass doors directly in front of them and beyond, Blair could see perfectly ordinary reception desk with a perfectly ordinary receptionist seated behind it.  He heard a small click as they approached and Justin opened the door for them to walk through.

      “Good morning Agent Brasel,” the receptionist greeted them warmly as if she saw armed military personal escorting handcuffed prisoners every day.

      “Thank you, Melissa.  Can you have breakfast delivered?  I’m starved and I’m sure Dr. Sandburg would like to eat something before we take our little tour.”

      “Right away, sir,” she said, picking up a phone.

      “What is this place?  How many people work here?”  Blair asked, trying to get his brain engaged, trying to work out just how big a hole he’d dug.

      “Around here was call it the Sentinel Lab, but the official, on the books name is Project Indigo.  Our total staff right now, including our military guard and clerical people is somewhere around three hundred.”

      “Three hundred… Why are you answering all of my questions?  Why tell me this?”  Blair stopped abruptly, forcing Justin and their guard to stop as well as they moved down a long, nondescript hallway.  He turned to look the other man in the eye.  “If you’re just going to kill me, you should probably go ahead and do it because whatever it is you’re going to ask me to do my answer’s going to be no.  Whatever twisted experiments you’re doing here, I won’t be a part of it.  That’s not what I signed up for.”

      “Dr. Sandburg, no one here is going to kill you.  And you most certainly _will_ do exactly what we ask you do to because if you don’t we’ll kill your lover.  It’s that simple,” Justin said matter-of-factly. 

       “Fuck you, man!”  Blair exploded, jerking his arm out of Brasel’s grip.  “Just fuck you!  You were right, I _should_ have listened to Jim.  He knew something like this was coming but I was too fucking blind to see it.  I can’t believe I fucking participated in this shit!  I don’t know what’s going on here, but I’m telling you right now if anything happens to Jim you can go fuck yourself because then I’ll have _zero_ reason to help you.”

      He stood mutinously, glaring daggers at Brasel, who was frowning at him as if he was a child having a fit.  Sergeant McCabe stood impassive, apparently not at all concerned about his outburst.

      Brasel sighed.  “Dr. Sandburg… Blair, I can understand your anger.  And believe me, the last thing I want to do is to have to kill _anyone_.  We would of course like for you to cooperate willingly.  You are still an employee after all.  You are still being _paid_ to work on this project.  I am sorry that we had to do it this way.  I would have preferred to have invited you here under much different circumstances, but considering the obvious… change in your loyalties you really left us with no choice.”

      So they knew.  Probably from the very first doctored report he’d submitted.  He began to feel the fight drain out of him.  All of his life he’d felt as if his intelligence was his greatest asset.  On days when he’d had to listen to the taunts and endure the physical harassment of his older classmates who viewed him as a freak, he held on to the fact that someday he’d be able to use that intelligence and do something great.  Now he just felt like he’d failed.  He’d failed himself and his Sentinel.  He felt Brasel take hold of his arm again and allowed himself to be led down the hall to another doorway.  He wondered if Jim could still feel him with hundreds of miles between them. 

      The room they entered looked like any other conference room.  There was a long table surrounded by a dozen plush office chairs, a conference call speaker device in the middle, and a large monitor mounted on one wall.  There were also pictures.  Blair’s eyes went wide as he turned his head to examine each one.  In each picture, there was a woman lying in a hospital bed, dressed in the requisite hospital gown and in each woman’s arms was an infant.  In most of the pictures the women were smiling and gazing down into the face of her newborn.  In a couple they looked tired and worn but still happy. 

      Blair’s heart started to pound.  His head throbbed.  He felt his knees start to give but before he could fall to the floor, Justin yanked out a chair and McCabe helped him maneuver the unsteady Guide into the seat. 

      “The babies… they’re Sentinels aren’t they?”  Blair asked, his voice weak.

      He looked up at Justin’s face as the other man beamed.  “We hope so, yes,” he said.

      “How?”  Blair asked, feeling sick.  Feeling like he’d stepped into some sort of whacked out fun house of horrors.

      “You’re about to find out,” Justin said. 

      The door to the conference room opened and a nondescript young man walked in carrying a tray with an assortment of breakfast pastries and a pitcher of orange juice along with some glasses.  He set the tray on the table and left.

      “Here, before we get started let’s eat.  I’m starving and we have a long day ahead of us.”  Justin nodded at McCabe and the other man took a knife from his belt and bent to cut the zip tie holding Blair’s wrists behind his back. 

      He hissed in pain and brought his hands around to rub his wrists.  “You’ll forgive me if I’m not all that hungry,” Blair said, giving Brasel a withering look.

      “Suite yourself,” the other man shrugged and plucked a muffin from the tray, pouring himself a glass of juice.  “You can leave us now, Sergeant, I don’t believe I’ll be having any trouble from Dr. Sandburg.”

      “Yes, sir,” McCabe said before he turned on his heel and left.

      Blair watched Justin eat his muffin for a few minutes and tried to wrap his brain around the enormity of what was going on here.  He got up and wandered around the room, stopping to gaze at the face of each infant in each picture.  He could see a resemblance to each mother: skin tone, nose shape, bone structure.  These women were obviously the children’s’ biological mothers. 

      “Whose semen did you use?”  Blair asked, wondering how this could be possible.  

      “Oh, that’s the real beauty of this project.  Wait until you see!  I don’t want to spoil it.  You’ll get to see the entire process up close and personal in just a few minutes.  Are you sure you don’t want something to eat?”  Justin asked, finishing the last of his juice.

      “Thanks, but no,” Blair said, not turning around, his eyes still glued to the eyes of the infant in the picture he was looking at.

      “Well, then let’s get going.  I have a lot to show you.”

     

 

 

 

      It took Jim most of that day to formulate a plan.  Something that wouldn’t alert whoever was watching him (at least not until he was ready for them to be alerted) one that would leave plenty of plausible deniability for Simon.  He couldn’t do this by himself.  There were things that needed to be set in motion that required the voice of an authority higher than him.

      Simon chewed thoughtfully on his cigar and contemplated his Detective.  There was something going on here.  Something beyond Jim being in the office on a Saturday when he was supposed to be enjoying a day off. 

      “Ellison… Jim,” Simon said, and Jim braced himself, “why don’t you tell me what’s really going on here?  Why the push to hold a press conference about this case all of a sudden?  I thought you hated being in front of the cameras.”

      “Well, it’s not my favorite thing, Simon, but I feel like these cases never get national coverage.  We don’t talk enough about how to spot the signs of abuse and how to protect the kids.  No one wants to talk about that stuff until it’s too late.  I just thought maybe we could do a little bit to _prevent_ something like this from happening again instead of always having to clean up the mess.”  Jim could tell by Simon’s expression that he wasn’t quite buying it.

      “I still think you’re up to something.  I don’t like it,” he said, scowling.

      “I swear I’m not up to anything.  This case just hit me, that’s all.”

      “Because of your Uncle,” Simon said, his worry for his friend and subordinate clear in his voice.

      “Yeah, yeah, because of that,” Jim said, not having to fake the emotion in his voice.

      Simon sighed.  He was still sure that there was more going on here than just the case, but he also recognized the importance of what Jim was saying.  And the Detective was right, the media didn’t do enough to help protect kids from the type of predators that they arrested. 

      “All right,” Simon said.  “I’ll run it by the Chief and if he okay’s it I’ll get Rhonda to set something up for you.”

      “Thank you, Simon,” Jim said.  “This means a lot to me.”

      “Don’t mention it,” his Captain said.

      As Jim drove home, he tried to feel Blair through their link.  It felt weak and unclear but he thought he could detect a slight sense of fear.  “Hang on, babe,” he said, trying to project his strongest love and strength down the wavering connection.

 

 

 

      They got back on the elevator and rode down three floors to the fourth level.

      “It took eight years to build this site,” Justin was saying.  “They had to dynamite nearly half the mountain.  Everything is under ground.  Mostly for security, but also for the advantage of protection in the event of a nuclear attack.”

      “Nuclear attack?”  Blair said, voice heavy with skepticism. 

      “You never know…” Justin shrugged.  “This is our main lab space.  We do all of the genetic engineering down here.”

      They emerged from the elevator in front of a glass wall that stretched the length of the compound in either direction.  In front of them was a glass door secured by another handprint reader.  He followed Justin as they walked down the hall to the right.

      “I’m sorry we can’t go in, but the entire space is sterile.  You have to wear a bio suit to enter.  We can’t risk contamination.”

      “You mentioned genetic engineering,” Blair prompted, watching various suited personnel move around the large space.  If he had to guess he’d say there was probably several million dollars’ worth of equipment in this room alone.

      “This is where it gets really interesting.  We started with the samples you sent…”

      “Wait, you mean the hair and skin samples from Jim?”  Blair asked, beginning to get a very clear picture of where this was going.

      “Exactly.  We recruited some of the best researchers from the human genome project and had them work on isolating the gene sequences that differed from what you might call ‘normal’.  Then we engineered those sequences and cloned them using viral technology.  The last step is, of course, to splice those sequences into an already fertilized zygote.”

      “So you took Jim’s DNA and isolated the parts that make him a Sentinel, then you did some fancy genetic engineering magic to make normal humans into Sentinels,” Blair summarized, feeling ill.  This was worse than he imagined.  Nothing about this was even remotely close to ethical.  Justin was talking about eugenics.  Engineering human beings to give them a genetic advantage.  And he’d been part of it.

      “This technology… it must be new.  I mean, cloning, we can do that, but the type of engineering you’re talking about is, like, science fiction,” Blair said, trying not to believe what his eyes and ears were telling him.

      “Not anymore,” Justin said, placing a companionable hand on his shoulder.  “With your help, we’ve made this a reality.”

      “Those babies, where are they?”  Blair was afraid of the answer.  He didn’t think he could bear it if there were little Sentinels being raised in some underground laboratory being poked and prodded and experimented on.  He was beginning to see all of his tests with Jim in a whole new light.  “They’re not… they’re not _here_ are they?!”

      “Good God, no!”  Justin answered as if that concept were completely ridiculous.  “They are being raised by handpicked and screened families who have been specifically trained to identify Sentinel abilities.  We wanted them to have as normal a childhood as possible.”

      “How many have you lost?”  He needed to know how many lives had been sacrificed.

      “You always did have a big heart, Blair,” Justin said.  “You know as well as I do that a project like this will inevitably have its casualties.  I am pleased to say that we’ve never lost a viable embryo.  Once we got past the experimental phase and into implantation we were able to gestate all of the babies to term.”

      Blair nodded absently.  “Have you confirmed any of them as Sentinels yet?”

      “We have six confirmed.  All of them under the age of five at the moment.”

      “Jesus!  A five-year-old Sentinel?!  How do they cope?!  Those poor kids must be completely miserable!  Didn’t you even _read_ what I sent?!” 

      “Relax, Dr. Sandburg, none of these children are suffering.  All of the parents have been trained in your Guide techniques and all of the homes are equipped for the comfort of a young Sentinel.  I assure you, we have taken every precaution to prevent any harm from coming to these little ones.  Spared no expense.” 

      “Right, because I imagine these kids are probably worth several million dollars,” Blair’s sarcastic comment seemed to irk Brasel.

      “Dr. Sandburg, you can’t put a price on what we’ve developed here.  The advantage our country will have once these Sentinels are fully online cannot be measured.”

      “These are people, Justin,” Blair turned to him, begging with his eyes for the other man to understand.  “You’re playing with _people’s lives_!  They aren’t just machines or tools to be used by the government!  What happens if your little Sentinels grow up and don’t _want_ to work for the government?!  What then?  Are you gonna drug them and manipulate them into working for you?”

      “But that’s the beauty of the entire thing, Blair.  By raising these children from infants, we can shape them, mold them.  We can make them into… whatever we want.” 

      “This is insane,” Blair said.  “It makes me sick that I was even a part of this.”

      “I’m sorry you feel that way,” Justin said sincerely.  “But the fact remains that there is still work to be done here.  One last thing that the project needs in order to be fully realized.”

      Blair didn’t want to ask.  He knew Justin would tell him anyway.  At any rate, at this point he was sure he could guess what that one thing was.

      “You see, while we’ve managed to train the parents of our little Sentinels to _act_ as Guides, we have no way of supplying our Sentinels with _true_ Guides.”

      “What do you mean?  Anyone can be a Guide.  All you have to do is exactly what I wrote in my research.”  He could hear the flat, dead tone in his voice.  His sense of utter despair was growing.  So many lives.  And it was all his fault.

      “But, Dr. Sandburg, you haven’t figured it out yet?”  Justin’s voice was full of fake surprise.

      Blair turned once again away from the laboratory window to look at him.

      “Being a Guide isn’t just a matter of a happy accident.  Through our research, we’ve identified markers in a Sentinel’s DNA.  At first, we weren’t sure what those markers were for.  They didn’t seem to correlate to any of the Sentinel characteristics we’d already identified.  And then there was the remarkable revelation of your connection!  We are now quite certain that being a Guide is genetic as well.  That the markers we identified coincide with identical markers in compatible Guides.”

      Blair’s eyes had grown wide, his throat constricting, his chest tightening.  He was going to have a panic attack right here and there was nothing he could do to stop it.  Puzzle pieces were clicking into place in his racing mind.  They were resolving into a nightmare picture of horrible proportions.  His vision greyed to dozens of swimming spots and Justin’s voice faded.  He could see the other man’s mouth moving, could almost feel his hand gripping his arm as his knees started to buckle.  The world tilted, his last thought was that if this were a Hollywood movie, it would be really nice for the hero to rescue him right about now.

 

 

 

      Jim felt sweat gathering under his arms, dripping down his back, beading on his forehead.  He swiped at his head with a Kleenex before shoving it back in his pocket.  Standing behind the podium in the large conference room and looking out over the bouquet of microphones in front of him had his pulse racing.  The room was full to bursting with every reporter in the city.  He recognized quite a few of them.  It seemed Rhonda had summoned everyone from the Cascade Times to The New York Times.  Jesus.

      “Five minutes, Jim,” Simon whispered in his ear as he stood behind and slightly to the left of his friend.  Jim felt his conscience twinge a bit at what he was about to do.  Simon was going to kill him.

      Five minutes.  Five minutes until doomsday.  Five minutes until they either lived or died.  Five minutes until nothing would ever be the same again.  Five fucking minutes.

      “We’re live in sixty seconds, people!”  The PD’s PR rep shouted out over the general murmur of the crowd.  For a moment the noise swelled as photographers made last minute adjustments to their cameras and videographers jostled for the best spot and reporters flipped pages in notebooks and frantically scribbled last minute questions.

      “We’re live in five, four, three…”  The PR rep was silent for the last two counts and then Jim stared into the faces of over two dozen reporters and almost as many red lights that felt like the beads of sniper rifles trained on his head.

      The PR rep stepped in front of the microphones and began speaking.  Jim tried to track what she was saying but the sound of his own heartbeat was downing her out.  He was sure it was eloquent and interesting, whatever it was.  Reporters scribbled frantically.

      “…Detective Jim Ellison of the Cascade PD,” she finished and stepped back, waiting for him to come forward.

      Mechanically, he stood in front of the podium.  Flashes went off, curious eyes watched him, his heart raced.

      “Ladies and gentlemen,” he began, “I know you were all prepared to hear me speak about how we can protect our children from exploitation and abuse at the hands of sexual predators.  I promise you that I and the Cascade PD take that matter very seriously and it isn’t something anyone should be sweeping under the rug, however that’s not actually why I asked you all here today…”

      The volume in the room increased, several hands went up.  Jim felt a wave of calm steal over him.  He reached out for the link and felt nothing.  His eyes closed briefly in pain, but he forced them open again.  Blair had taken the first step.  Yes, he had made a choice that had hurt Jim deeply, but he’d done everything he could to make it right.  Jim remembered when he thought Blair had been willing to sacrifice his entire career to protect Jim’s secret.  He knew now that the sacrifice hadn’t been real, but the protection had been genuine.  He knew that Blair loved him, and he knew that this was the only way to save them.

      “I asked you here today to tell you that I’m a Sentinel,” Jim had to shout loudly into the microphones above the general noise, but the room quickly grew quiet as he continued to speak.  “Several months ago, my partner gave a press conference denying the authenticity of his research…”

      “What the hell are you doing, Jim?”  Simon hissed into his ear. 

      He ignored his Captain and continued, “But that was a _lie_!  He did it to protect me because he knew that if people knew I had these abilities it would completely upend my entire life.  But information has come to light that makes it necessary that I come forward with the truth.  I am a Sentinel.  I possess heightened senses that allow me to see, hear, feel, taste and smell far more than the average person.  Because of this, Dr. Blair Sandburg and I have been targeted by the National Security Agency…”

      Again the noise level rose, more flash bulbs went off.  He could hear half a dozen shouted questions.

      “Please, let me finish and then I promise I will answer questions,” he shouted and waited for the noise to die again.  “Dr. Blair Sandburg has been kidnapped, taken against his will from our home by people who I believe are working for the NSA.  I do not know where he’s been taken or how long they plan to keep him or even if he is still alive, but the American people deserve to know what is going on!  We cannot allow our government to get away with this gross infringement of civil rights!  I am making a public statement right now!  Whoever has my partner, Dr. Blair Sandburg, release him now!  There’s no longer any reason to hold him.  I’m willing to do whatever tests are required to prove that what I’m saying is the truth.  Sentinels are real!  I am a Sentinel.  And now the entire world will know.”

      As he finished, he felt Simon put a hand on his shoulder and squeeze.  He didn’t need to turn around to know that his Captain had his back.  He only hoped he hadn’t made dire miscalculation.

      Questions flew from the audience of reporters.  The PR rep, who had been staring in shocked silence throughout his entire speech, shook herself out of her stupor and began to organize the interviewers so that Jim could answer one question at a time.  Predictably, many of the questions revolved around whether or not he could prove what he was saying.  It only took a few sensory parlor tricks to convince them.  After an hour, he was exhausted and soaked with sweat.  Simon pulled him away from the podium and out of the room, leaving the PR rep to deal with the reporters.  He allowed Simon to lead him down a hallway to an empty office.  Once inside he collapsed into a chair and let his head fall into his hands.

      “What in the ever-loving _hell_ was that about?!”  Simon shouted.

      “Please don’t yell, Simon,” Jim said, “my head is killing me.”

      “Jim, I swear to God, if you don’t start talking I’m going to brain you with that paperweight over there,” Simon said, pulling up another chair and sitting down.

      “I don’t think I can tell the whole story right now.  I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, but it was too dangerous for you to know.  I wouldn’t have involved you now except that I needed help to arrange this press conference.”

      “So, what?  The NSA found out about your abilities?  They got ahold of Sandburg’s diss and read it?  What?!”

      “He works for them, Simon,” Jim said, finally looking up to see Simon’s eyes go wide.  He could swear he saw his Captain’s dark skin pale several shades.

      “What?”

      “He works for them,” Jim repeated.

      “Jesus Christ,” Simon breathed.

      “Yeah, that was pretty much my reaction too.”

      “All this time?”

      “Yup,” Jim said.

      “The _entire_ time?!”  Simon seemed to be having a hard time wrapping his brain around this.

      “The entire time,” Jim said, feeling exhausted.  He just wanted this to be over with so he could find out if he’d managed to fuck everything up.

      “That kid oughta get a goddamn Academy Award,” Simon said, shoving his cigar in his mouth and chewing it. 

      “Most of it wasn’t acting,” Jim said.

      Simon grunted.  They sat in silence for several minutes listening to the noise as reporters filed out into the hallway.  “We should wait until they’ve left,” Simon said.

      “Probably,” Jim agreed.  “I really don’t think I can handle any more questions.”

     

 

 

      “Brasel!”  The panicked shout heralded a middle-aged man in a suit running down the hallway towards them.

      “Turner?  I’m busy, what the hell’s going on?”  Brasel asked, directing his attention to the newcomer.

      “You have to come upstairs _now_.  We’ve got a _big_ problem,” his eyes cut to Blair who sat slumped against the glass wall, seemingly unconscious.

      “Yeah, well so do I.  I need you to get a couple of guys to get Dr. Sandburg into an exam room and then I need to you page Dr. Spinaldo, stat.”

      “Sir, I don’t think you understand.  This is a code red type emergency…”

      “I don’t give two _shits_ what color emergency it is, Turner!  Do what I told you to do!”  When Turner starting to interrupt again, Justin shouted, “NOW!”

      “Fine, don’t fucking blame me when the Secretary reams your ass then.”  He turned and stalked off down the hallway.

      Minutes later, as Blair was stirring groggily, two men in lab coats exited the elevator and met Brasel in the hallway.  “Get him upstairs to an exam room and restrain him.  Page Dr. Spinaldo and tell him we need blood and tissue samples.  I want it done now.”

      “Yes sir,” one of the men answered as they moved to pick up the semiconscious Guide.

      Justin didn’t wait to see if his orders would be carried out.  His orders were always carried out.  Now he’d take care of whatever bullshit emergency Turner had been screeching about and get back to some real work.

      The second floor contained what they called the War Room.  This was where their IT people worked and where feeds from their various watching and listening devices were monitored.  It also held a huge plasma screen where various feeds could be displayed for viewing in large groups.  As Justin entered the room, that large screen was currently projecting Detective Jim Ellison.

      “What the hell is going on?”  He asked the first person he saw, some low-level techie whose name he was sure he never knew.

      “Detective Ellison’s giving a press conference,” the woman answered, shrugging.

      He turned his attention to the screen and listened as the Sentinel threw the mother of all monkey wrenches right into the middle of his world.  “Nuclear attack indeed,” he growled, his face growing red. 

      The entire room was silent, many of their eyes were turned to him.  Even the ones who had never met him personally knew who he was.  They knew this was bad. 

      “Red line for you, sir.”  Someone handed him a telephone receiver half-way through the question and answer session.

      “Brasel,” he answered, only half aware of what he was doing.

      “Are you watching this, Brasel?  What kind of half-assed shit show are you running down there, man?!”  Secretary of Defense, Mr. Robert Almundson sounded apoplectic. 

      “Calm down, Almundson, it’s under control,” Brasel said.  There had to be something he could do to salvage this.

      “Fuck that!  I’ve already spoken to the President and to the National Security Committee.  They want you shut down _now_!  They want the entire thing liquidated.  This is a complete FUBAR situation here, Agent.  And let me tell you, no one up here is going to be taking responsibility for this!  The official word from the Oval Office is _disavow_ , do you hear me?  Your ass is gonna be hung out to _dry_ if you don’t clean house right the fuck _now_!”

      Justin ground his teeth.  Fucking politicians.  As he watched the Detective escorted from the room, he realized he wouldn’t have much choice but to do what the Secretary was ordering.  They’d probably already frozen his funding and closed all of the accounts associated with the project.  If he wanted to come out of this without ending up behind bars he’d have to cut and run. 

      “Turner!”  He shouted as he hung up the phone.  “Someone get me Turner!”

      The room erupted in a bustle of sound and motion.  Turner appeared in front of him.

      “Implement liquidation protocol,” he ordered.

      Turner looked at him like he’d grown a second head. 

      “Did you hear me, Turner?!”

      “Yes, sir, I heard you.  I just…”

      “DO IT!”  Justin yelled and everyone in hearing range froze, looking in their direction.

      “Yes sir,” Turner answered and hurried away.

      Justin hurried from the War Room and to the elevator.  He took it to the third floor and located the exam room where Dr. Sandburg lay strapped to an exam chair.  He was awake now and fighting his restraints.  Dr. Spinaldo and a nurse were standing on either side of him.  The doctor was writing on the label of a vial filled with blood.

      “Give it to me,” Brasel ordered.

      “NO!”  Blair shouted and redoubled his efforts to escape.  The restraints held.

      The doctor ignored Blair’s struggling and handed over the vial.  “The others too,” Justin said.

      “We haven’t had a chance to test…” 

      “I don’t care!  Give me the vials!”  Justin yelled, shaking his open hand urgently in the doctor’s face.  The other man frowned but handed over the rest of the specimens. 

      “Did you get the tissue yet?”

      “We haven’t had time.  The patient isn’t exactly cooperative,” he said.

      “Never mind, this is good enough.”

      “What do you want us to do with him?”  The doctor asked, waving his gloved hand in Blair’s direction.

      “Liquidation protocol has been initiated,” Justin answered.

      The doctor nodded and Brasel rushed out of the room.

      “Liquidation protocol?  What does that mean?”  Blair asked the doctor, even though he had a pretty good idea.

      The doctor didn’t answer.  Instead he turned to his nurse and said, “Draw up ten cc’s of pentobarbital and have Edgar come in with you.  We’ll need you both to hold him down.”

      “You’re insane,” Blair spat at the doctor.  “What about your oath?!  You can’t just kill me!  You’re a doctor for Christ’s sake!”

      “So are you,” the doctor answered, raising an eyebrow.

      Blair watched the nurse leave the room and felt a sense of desperation like he’d never known before.  Even when he’d sat chained in front of that psycho Lash he hadn’t felt this level of panic.  He continued to fight his restraints as the doctor watched impassively, clearly convinced there was no way he could possibly escape. 

      “You bastard!”  He screamed as he fought.  “You mother fucker!  You can’t do this!  I won’t let you!  You fuckers have screwed me over enough!”

      A final, primal scream erupted from his throat as he sagged back against the chair.  It was hopeless.  No one knew where he was.  There would be no last minute rescue.  Jim was hundreds of miles away and he could barely even feel him.  He wanted to cry.  He wanted to kill someone.  He wanted to see Jim’s face one last time.  He closed his eyes and waited, trying desperately to feel their link, wanting to at least have that connection in his last moments. 

      “I’m so sorry, Jim,” he whispered.  “I love you.”  With all of his remaining strength he pushed that feeling down their link, felt it flare to life, burning brightly.  He gasped, eyes flying open at the sensation.  He felt his heart was hammering.  He continued to reach down the link, down and down and down, feeling his heart race and heat flow from his chest into his body.  Sweat began to stream down the sides of his face as his body heated.  He gasped, feeling his muscles tensing, seemingly of their own accord. 

      The door to the room opened.  He sensed, somewhere outside of himself, two other people come in.  He heard the doctor’s voice.  His vision blurred. 

      Hands.  Hands that felt ice cold touched his arms, gripped him tightly. 

      “He’s burning up,” the female nurse said, snatching her hands away.

      “Hold him!”  The doctor snapped, trying to steady the needle against his left arm.

      He felt it prick him and another scream erupted.  He jerked in the chair and the doctor hissed, withdrawing the needle.

      “I said, hold him, damn it!”

      “He’s having some sort of seizure!”  The male nurse yelled, clearly disturbed by the scene playing out in front of him.  “What the hell did you do to him?!”  He began backing away from the exam chair and Blair arched up, easily breaking the other nurses hold.

      “Get back here, Edgar, and hold him down!”  The doctor ordered.

      “Hell no, man!  I’m outa here!”  Edgar ran from the room, leaving the door open.

      The doctor turned angry eyes to his remaining nurse who was also looking scared and backing away.

      “Screw this,” she hissed and ran.

      For a minute Dr. Spinaldo watched the young man struggle against his restraints, his body had taken on a strange red hue as if he had spent too long in the sun.  His muscles were bulging and the veins were standing out all over.  The man was having a seizure or a stroke or something.  He wasn’t sure but whatever it was he was damn sure he wasn’t going to be able to inject him while he was thrashing around like this and if he didn’t hit a vein there was a chance the chemical wouldn’t work.  For a moment he thought about going to find another couple of nurses.  He stood and took a step towards the door.  He could see people running back and forth out in the hallway.  Panicked voices rose and fell.  From somewhere deep in the bowels of the complex an explosion rocked the foundation, causing him to jump. 

      “Fuck this,” he muttered, dropping the syringe on the floor and running out of the exam room.

      He was burning.  Burning from the inside.  His chest felt tight and his heart was racing so fast he thought it might rupture any moment.  He felt like there was a beast trapped inside him, something that was clawing at his insides, desperate to escape.  The contracting of his muscles felt like agony, felt like his bones were being bent, contorted, pulled into a different shape.  Distantly, the sound of something tearing came to him and the restrictions around his wrists and ankles eased.  His contorted body rolled out of the chair and onto the floor where the pain reached a terrible crescendo.  His skin was melting.  Had to be.  Yet his vision was obscured, blurry.  He shook his head, trying to clear it but the pain blocked out everything.  A scream worked its way up from somewhere deep in his gut.  It was something that sounded more animal than human.

 

 

 

      Jim stood frozen in the middle of his living room.  He felt shell shocked.  He was watching yet another replay of his press conference.  This time on CNN.  Simon was downstairs with several uniformed officers keeping the reporters from trying to enter the building.  He’d unplugged the phone hours ago.  It literally wouldn’t stop ringing.  He hoped they didn’t get ahold of his cell number.  There was no word yet from anyone at the NSA or from Blair.  It had been hours and he’d heard nothing.  The link had been dead for hours.  His hope was dwindling.

      He began to second-guess himself.  What if he’d gotten his Guide killed?  Surely he would know if Blair was no longer alive.  Wouldn’t he be able to tell?  What good was this bond between them if his Guide’s life could be taken without even so much as a twinge?

      He turned off the TV.  He couldn’t listen to any more repetitions of his folly.  The air on the balcony felt good.  He stood gripping the railing, gazing out over the city, trying to feel… anything.  His eyes drifted down to the street.  It was only three stories.  Probably not far enough.  He went back inside and climbed up the loft steps.  He pulled down the emergency ladder and climbed up to open the skylight window.  On the roof the air was moving more freely.  It was colder.  He shivered but walked to the edge anyway.  It was further.  It might be enough.

      Pain.  Pain like a hot knife lanced through his belly.  The strength went out of his legs and he collapsed.  Gasping, he tried to stand but another wave of agony sent him tipping to the side, his cheek landing hard on the rough surface of the roof.

      “Blair?”  He groaned, feeling the link flare brightly.  The cold wind bit at his skin through his clothes.  Blair was alive!  Relief served to wipe away the pain momentarily.  If Blair was alive then he could still find him!  But he could barely move, the pain and the weakness kept him pinned to the cold ground.  He tried to yell, to call for Simon, but he couldn’t make his muscles work.  All that emerged was a quiet groan.  The only answer the cold wind, taking all of his heat, making his teeth chatter.

      He clung to the link, feeling Blair’s fear and rage.  He opened himself and pushed his strength and love down the link to his lover.  _Hang on, Blair,_ he thought.  _I’m coming._

 

 

 

      People ran screaming in front of him.  He felt strength flow through his limbs as he wove between the panicking legs of the fleeing humans around him.  There was a door.  He needed to find the door.  Scents and sounds bombarded him but his brain sorted them effortlessly.  There.  There was the scent.  The man who had taken him.  He followed the scent to the open door of and office.  The man was there.  He stank of fear.  A growl emerged from his throat and the man whipped around.  The man’s eyes went wide when he saw the huge cat crouched in the doorway.

      _Not yet._ A voice whispered from somewhere deep inside.  The cat leapt aside and crept off down the hallway and around a corner.  Seconds later, the man emerged from the office carrying a small briefcase.  He looked down the hall and then took off in the opposite direction that the cat had gone.

      He emerged from his hiding place and followed the man’s scent, keeping just far enough away so he could still see the fleeing man amidst his fellows.  The man stopped at the door.  The door he’d been searching for.  When the man entered the door he ran quickly to follow.  The man screamed when the large cat entered the elevator behind him.  He tried to lunge for the door but the cat swiped at his arm with its huge paw, tearing a large gash in his forearm.  The cat made a sound that was more scream than roar and suddenly the elevator doors opened behind it.

      “Move!”  The man shouted, fear driving him to a kind of crazed courage.

      The cat hissed and bared its long fangs.

      “Get out of my way!”  He shouted, waving the brief case at the cat’s head, trying to scare it.

      Slowly, the cat backed out of the elevator, keeping a wary eye on the man.  As the man tried to exit the elevator, the cat lunged, putting all of its power behind the charge.  Reflexively, the man lashed out by swinging the heavy metal case at the cat’s head.  The blow deflected his charge and stunned him.  He shook his head as the man ran past him out of the door.

      The cat ran after him but as he ran out of the door, he was hit with a wall of noise and wind that had him crouching and hissing, not knowing what this new thing was that threatened him.  The man was escaping!  But the monster that was making all of the noise was crouched there, waiting to attack.  He hissed again and took several halting steps forward.  The man climbed up and got into the monster’s belly.  Then the monster began to rise into the air.  The cat crouched lower and hissed again, then as the monster rose higher he leapt, lashing empty air with his claws outstretched.  He watched as the monster carried the man away into the sky and roared his impotent rage into the forest.

 

 

 

      “Jim, come on, man, come back to us,” Simon’s worried voice filtered into his consciousness.  Slowly, he peeled his eyelids back, waiting for his vision to clear and for Simon’s worried face to coalesce into something recognizable.

      “Blair,” he croaked.

      “Oh, thank God,” Simon breathed.  “Rafe, call the station.  Let everyone know he’s okay.”

      It was then that Jim realized they weren’t alone and that he was laying on his couch, wrapped like a burrito in several layers of blankets.

      “What’s going on?”  He asked.

      “We found you on the roof, Jim.  You were practically frozen solid!  I was this close,” Simon held up his thumb and forefinger so they were almost touching, “to calling an ambulance.”

      Jim took a moment to take stock of how he was feeling.  He felt tired, and honestly a little warm from all the blankets, but other than that he felt just fine. 

      “I think I’m okay now,” Jim said, trying to extricate himself.  Simon reached to help him and as he sat up he tried to shake off the last of the brain fog.

      “What the hell were you doing up there, Jim?”  Simon asked and the look in his eyes begged Jim not to confirm what he was thinking.

      “I don’t know, Simon.  It doesn’t matter now.  We have to get to Blair,” he said, standing and going up the stairs to the loft.  He would need warmer clothes for himself and for Blair and he would need his gun and some good hiking boots.

      “Jim, what the hell?!”  Simon shouted up at him, clearly confused and worried.

      “He’s in West Virginia,” Jim said, coming back down the stairs with a small duffel bag full of supplies.  “Are you coming or not?”

      Simon and Rafe exchanged a look.  “Jim, I don’t want to hear any more about weird Sentinel shit ever again.  Do you hear me?  Anything else happens and you can call someone else.  I am done.  I’m gonna have to retire just to get away from you two!”  Simon’s grousing followed them out the door and down the stairs to the truck.  Jim tuned him out.  Everything was going to be okay now.  As long as he had Blair, everything was going to be just fine.

 

 

 

      Simon didn’t ask Jim how he knew where Blair was.  He trusted his friend enough to follow where he led.  It took them almost an entire day to make it to the abandoned helipad where Blair’s unconscious body lay naked and cold on the concrete.  At first, Simon feared the worst.  Who knew how long he’d lain there, exposed to the elements.  But Jim didn’t hesitate to go to his partner.  He sat and gathered Blair’s limp body in his arms, hands rubbing, trying to chafe some heat into Blair’s extremities.  Simon crouched next to them and opened the duffel back, pulling out the clothes Jim had brought for Blair.  The worked together to get the younger man dressed and then Jim sat cradling him, rocking him and talking to him.

      Simon and Rafe stood by and kept watch, scanning the woods around them for signs of danger.  After a few minutes, Rafe wandered around the perimeter of the helipad, looking for any other signs of civilization.  There was a narrow concrete path that led away from the large landing site.  He walked along it for a few feet before coming to a wide concrete slab. 

      “Huh,” he said, scuffing the obviously fresh concrete with the toe of his shoe.  “Hey, Simon, come take a look at this!”

      Simon sighed and turned away from his friends.  He walked over to where Rafe was contemplating the cement. 

      “This look fresh to you?”  Rafe asked.

      “Looks like quick-dry,” Simon said.  “Hasn’t been here long.”

      “Weird,” Rafe said, scratching his head.

      “Something tells me I’m not gonna want to hear this,” Simon said, turning back to where Jim was still holding Blair.  The younger man had regained consciousness and was smiling up into his partner’s face.  Neither man seemed to remember they weren’t alone.

      Rafe and Simon stood silently while Jim lowered his head, his lips meeting his Guide’s.  They kissed for a long time. 

      “Think we should stop them?”  Rafe asked, his voice full of humor.

      “Lord help me,” Simon groaned and went to interrupt the two lovers.  He really wanted nothing more than to go home and forget any of this had ever happened.

 

 

 

      “So you’re telling me there’s nothing we can do,” Simon growled, tired eyes taking in the two lovers sitting close on the sofa.

      “I’m afraid not,” Blair said.  “There’s no way the government is going to admit to any of this.  And no one has seen or heard from Brasel, at least not that I’ve been able to determine.  And now that I’m no longer employed by the NSA it’s not like I can go poking around.  As far as they’re concerned, there’s no such thing as a Dr. Blair Sandburg.”

      “And you have no idea where Brasel might have gone?”  Simon asked.

      “I told you.  I don’t remember anything after they strapped me to that exam chair.  The last time I saw Brasel we were standing outside of that horrible lab and he was stroking himself over how successful his little experiment had been.”

      “What makes you think they won’t come after you again?  You have all this information…”

      “I have nothing, Simon.  I don’t have one shred of physical evidence that any of this even happened.  They’ve destroyed everything by now.  If we dug up that compound all we’d find would be concrete and ashes.”

      “He’s right, Simon,” Jim added.  “I know how these guys operate.  If they want to make something disappear then it’s gonna stay gone.”

      “What about all those little sentinel babies running around out there?”  Simon asked.

      Blair shrugged.  “We’ll just have to wait and see.  If we’re lucky, we may be able to find them or they might find us.  Now that the information is out there, thanks to Jim’s press conference, at least they’ll have a lead to follow.  If we find them, I’ll help them if I can.  It’s the least I can do.”

      “I’ll help too, Chief,” Jim said, giving his lover a squeeze.  He knew that Blair was taking on the lion’s share of guilt for this whole disaster.  It was going to take a long time to process that.

      “You know that your little announcement has the DA’s office in complete meltdown.  They’ve been fielding appeals from literally every creep you’ve ever arrested that’s still alive and in prison,” Simon said.

      Jim groaned.  He had known there would be serious consequences for him professionally after his announcement. 

      “And IA is chomping at the bit to have a little chat with you about your evidence collecting techniques,” the Captain continued.

      “I’ve already decided to hand in my resignation, Simon,” Jim said. 

      “What?!”  Blair squawked.  “Jim!  Don’t you think we ought to discuss this first?!”

      “Nothing to discuss, babe.  I don’t really have a choice.  There’s no way the PD is going to allow me to continue on there.  The legal ramifications of what I can do pose too great a risk.”

      “But…” Blair tried to muster some sort of argument that would stop that boulder rolling down the hill.

      “No buts, Chief.  I’ll help clear up any immediate fallout but that’s it.  I’m done as a cop.”

      “Oh, Jim,” Blair moaned, not sure how to express his sadness at this news.

      “Hey, it’s okay.  In the four days we’ve been home you’ve gotten, what, twelve offers from major universities?  I think it’s your turn to bring home the bacon for a while.  I think I’m gonna enjoy being a faculty spouse,” Jim joked, dropping a kiss on Blair’s head.

      “Twelve… Jim, when were you going to tell me about this?”  Blair asked, wondering how he’d missed all those calls.

      “I unplugged the home phone.  They’ve been calling your cell,” Jim shrugged sheepishly.

      In all of the chaos that had been their life for the past few days Blair had completely forgotten to even look at his cell phone.  Twelve offers from major universities.  He began to realize what Jim’s press conference would mean for their future.  Beyond the fact that Jim would be publicly known as a Sentinel, he would now be known as an expert on Sentinels.  He would be in a perfect position to help any of those young Sentinels that may come online as a result of Project Indigo. 

      “Are you ready for this, Jim?”  Blair asked, turning his face up to look at his partner.

      “Do I have a choice?”  Jim returned, chuckling.

      Sentinel and Guide knew that there would be one hell of a mess to clean up after all of the revelations of the past few months.  But as he sat holding his Guide close, for the first time in his life Jim felt confident in his abilities as a Sentinel and in his purpose as a man.  He could feel the strength of his bond with Blair.  Blair’s ordeal had somehow served to cement that connection into something that was almost physical.  Jim was amazed that Simon couldn’t see the connection between them, stretching over and around them, binding them together.  Even as uncertain and scary as their future looked right now he knew that nothing could ever come between them again and for now that would have to be enough.

 

**EPILOGUE**

 

            Danny rolled over in bed and slapped a heavy hand over the alarm clock.  Beside him, his wife stirred and sighed.  He reached behind and found her side, rubbing softly.  “You want coffee?”

            A sleepy affirmative greeted him and he rose from the bed, stretching lazily, scratching his stomach and then his ass.  He was still sore from yesterday.  Recertification was a bitch.  And the new recruits were still wet behind the ears.  His foot was still throbbing from where the one kid had dropped the nozzle of the hose.

            “It’ll be up in a minute.  You on afternoons this week?”  He talked as he pulled a clean pair of dickies and an FD shirt out of the closet.

            “Yeah.  Stephanie’s still out with the flu and Margie wants me to take over as shift supervisor today.  We have two nurse interns to train.”

            “Sounds like a busy week.  Want to try for lunch today before things get crazy?”

            “Maybe,” she answered, rolling over and watching him as he dressed.

            “Fire report looks good today.  The winds have finally died down,” he said, checking his phone.

            “Hopefully we don’t have a bad season like last year,” she said.  “You’re only two years from retirement.  I’d like to make it through without having a heart attack.”

            “No fire’s gonna get me, baby,” he said, sitting down on the bed and leaning over to kiss her on the forehead.

            “Uh huh.  I’m sure you can control that,” she answered, rolling her eyes.  It was an old conversation.  The lines well-memorized.

            “I’ll put the coffee on,” he said.

 

 

 

            The last of the night shift was still lingering in the bunkhouse when Danny strolled in an hour later.  The hot, dry air of another Arizona summer seemed to invade even here where their ancient air conditioners labored to keep up with the heat. 

            “See ya’ later, DanBoy,” Harrison waved as he passed in the hall, going home to his own family.

            “Later,” Danny answered, walking into his office where his desk was cluttered with messages and updates from the last shift.  Some days he missed just being one of the guys.  Not having to be the Boss.  Chief had seemed like all he wanted when he was a twenty-year-old raw recruit just out of training.  Now it was just a lot of paperwork and press conferences and getting blamed for things that only Mother Nature could control.

            He sat at his desk for a while, answering emails and listening to the police scanner.  Nothing major happening today.  Thankfully. 

            “Hey, Chief,” a sandy blond head poked around his door. 

            “What’s up, Trev?”

            “You gotta come out front.  We have a situation,” the young man said, his voice serious.

            Danny sighed.  It was never calm for long.

            He followed Trevor down the hall to the front door of the station.  They rarely used it and usually kept it locked, most of the guys came in the back where they parked their cars.  They only used the large garage bay doors out front and only when they went out on calls.

            “What’s going on?”  He asked, he brow furrowing as he saw the small cluster of men and a few women who had gathered there.

            “You’ll see,” Trevor answered cryptically.

            As they crowd parted to let them through, Danny saw what all the fuss was about.  There was a baby.  It looked to be only a few months old judging by the size.  The child was strapped into one of those portable car seat things and covered in a blanket.  As he bent down to look, the child’s eyes found his, squinting against the morning sun. 

            “Hey there,” he said softly, picking up the car seat by the handle.  “Where did you come from?”

            The child’s eyes remained on his face, the tiny body oddly still.  They had found abandoned babies before of course.  Not often, only two in his career, but the state’s Safe Haven law made it possible for desperate mothers to leave their babies at fire stations without fear of legal consequence.  It was never a pleasant thing to discover, but he reckoned laws like it helped save these little ones from a worse fate.  He took the carrier into the building out of the hot sun, most of the station’s current shift following on behind. 

            “Trevor, get on the phone to Child Services.  They’ll need to get this little one checked out at the hospital.”

            “Sure thing, boss,” Trevor said, moving away to talk on his cell.

            “We’ll take good care of you, little one,” he cooed to the baby, carefully undoing the car seat straps and picking up the infant.  The tiny arms moved then, waving in front of his face.  He adjusted his hold so he was supporting the small head and gave the baby his finger to hold.  The tiny fingers gripped him strongly and the bright blue eyes stared up into his face.  The child still hadn’t made a single sound.

            “He’s really quiet,” Amanda commented.  “My boys were _never_ quiet at that age!”

            “Yeah, it’s kinda strange,” one of the guys added.

            “Here, let me take him,” Amanda reached out to take the small baby in her arms.  “Hey there, why so quiet huh?”  She rocked a little and bounced up and down on the balls of her feet.  Finally, a small gurgle emerged, then a brief squawk that might have been a laugh.  “That’s it, tell me a story,” she said and continued to walk around the room, rocking and bouncing.

            In one of the windows, someone had hung a small piece of stained glass art.  Two colorful humming birds hovered above a bright red flower, the intense morning sun streaming through to paint colors over the floor and walls of the room.  Amanda watched as the baby’s head turned, its interest caught by the colorful display.  One chubby arm reached out.  She walked a bit closer, giving the child a better look. 

            “You like this?”  She asked, reaching up to set the glass swinging just slightly.  Colored light and shadow danced across the small face, eyes wide with wonder.  It only took a few seconds for her to realize that the child had gone unnaturally still.

 

**THE END…. FOR NOW…**


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